Through black and white eyes
by xxSheWantsRevengexx
Summary: COMPLETE! An outcast girl living in a gossiping culdesac meets a mysterious person. Someone she can talk to. Someone she can understand. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

BLACK AND WHITE  
  
Notes on this story ::  
  
I do not own Edward Scissorhands, as much as I'd like one of my own. Heh. Tim Burton has full custody of the character.  
  
Summery :: Amy is a photographer. An outcast. A girl who can only see the world through the lens of a camera. Her curiosity grows about the mansion on the hill, and she meets someone she can relate to. Someone she can understand.  
  
~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~  
  
Amy Gibson. There's not much to say about this young girl. But, then again, there's plenty according to the neighbors who have phones glued to their ears. The cul-de-sac isn't large. It's rather small and humble from the outside. Green grass, neatly trimmed bushes, clean, small houses (mostly white) with pale but brightly colored shutters for all their small square windows. The kind of neighborhood that should have trinkling, upbeat background music all the time. In fact, that's the only thing that's missing to complete it as perfect.  
  
Kids on summer days always out jumping and leaping in sprinklers, the husbands mowing their lawns or trimming, cleaning, painting something. The smells of freshly cut grass hovering over the smell of hamburgers and hot dogs from the Malone's backyard.  
  
But we're here to talk about Amy, right? Right.  
  
Amy was a main chat on phone lines between noon and dusk. Being mysterious and rather quiet, there was so much to talk about. Perhaps 90% of it was gossip and nothing close to who she really was, but it was gossip. So therefore, it was interesting, reasonable, and close enough to the truth for them. Amy wasn't one to join barbecues, or the local teen's pool parties, or get to know the neighbors. Her Father, Marc Gibson, was a well known and a respectable lawyer. As for her mother, Sarah Gibson, passed away when she was younger. About twelve. This was another thing that got conversations started. Of course, everyone attended the funeral and said their "sorrys" and gave the Gibson's their blessings. But all the neighbors and relatives noticed that Amy didn't shed one tear. Of course, her dad told the people, "She's just in shock, that's all." But even to her own father it drew suspicions, and made him worry about his own daughter.  
  
That day she had found her mother's camera. It was an old one, but still in good condition. The young girl didn't want to face the truth. It didn't need to occur to her that right before her 13th birthday (two weeks before, to be precise) that she wouldn't have her mother in her life with her. Seeing the world through a lens, sounded safer. Sounded more reasonable. Then she'd only see what she wanted to. What made her happy and that she could protect herself from seeing more tragedies.  
  
All right, okay. Enough about the past. Let's get to today.  
  
It was a Friday, in June. All the kids were outside riding on bikes or swimming in pools. Amy's dad was at work, and would be till dusk. This gave Amy time to wonder around the neighborhood and take some pictures. Most kids didn't mind being in her pictures, and neither did some of the older women. Usually, however, she took her pictures when they were at their best. When they didn't know she was taking them. Like a mother holding her baby or a kid leaping across a sprinkler. Normal things. Normal days. Not posed or performed with a script.  
  
Amy stepped outside with her camera strap positioned around her neck, the camera bumping into her flat stomach as she closed the door behind her with a click of the lock. Turning back around, she came face to face with it. So many times her father had warned her and strictly told her.  
  
"Don't go to that mansion on the hill."  
  
He had probably told her this since she was old enough to go outside. There had been so many stories about that mansion. An old man use to live there, they would say. And he had created a man, but died before finishing him. They say that he was once brought to this neighbor hood by a lady who sold Avon here years and years ago. Before my grandmother was born. But sadly, the man was killed by police. In a sense, Amy wanted to know more about him. And perhaps, up on that hill...  
  
"Amy? Amy!"  
  
Shit.  
  
Amy turned, and saw Andrew "Big Mouth" Peterson walking up her front lawn, on her lawn. This would have bothered her mom, she knew it. "There is a walk way, Peterson." Amy stated, and in no mood to talk to Andrew. He ignored her, and walked through the grass until he reached her.  
  
Andrew was about a year older than Amy, but about five years younger in her mind. He has black hair and grey eyes that remind me of the ocean after a storm. The boy watches her for a moment, then opens his mouth to speak.  
  
Amy sighs, waiting for what he has to say.  
  
"You have raccoon eyes, what time did you go to bed?"  
  
"I don't know. I didn't look at the clock." Amy gripped the strap with both hands and walked past him, out towards the road. It was none of his business as to what time she may have gone to bed, and they both knew it. But seeing that the boy was so curious in her and secretly in love with the girl, he'd try everything to start a conversation with her. But like I said, it was none of his business. Amy has her own life, not revolving around Andrew "Curious Cat" Peterson. The skinny boy followed her down the driveway, rather irritated now.  
  
Amy looked back up at the mansion, zoning away from Andrew's rambling. After hearing, "No sleep," and "Pills" often in his one-sided conversation, Amy turned back to him. There wasn't much hostility in her half the time, but today there was enough to blow this creep off.  
  
"Andrew, I don't need to be lectured today. Okay?"  
  
He didn't say anything, but just stormed down the sidewalk. Amy sighed, glancing back up at the house. Releasing the strap with one hand, she twisted her wrist to see what time it was. 12:08 P.M. Her dad wouldn't be home for another 6 or so hours, at the earliest. Her hand fell to her side, and she put her left foot in front of the other, and started to shuffle down the sidewalk towards the mansion.  
  
The path to the mansion's gates was dark, and the grass was ingulfed in overgrowing weeds. Amy took the time to raise the camera to her eye and focused the lens, snapping a picture of the path whirling up to the iron steel gate reaching for the sky. She took a mental note to herself to grab some black and white film tomorrow. It would look great darker than it all ready appeared.  
  
The path, uphill, stressed Amy's legs, making them ache. Reaching the gate, it was clear to her that they were locked tightly together for no entrance. She took a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly.  
  
"Damn." She complained to herself, reaching out to grip a bar and shake it a bit. To make sure it was really locked. Not just a figment of her imagination. But all the gate did was make a rusty screech, and wriggle just enough to prove that it was locked securely. The sun didn't seem to shine as much in the area she was in. In fact, if she wasn't mistaken, that dark clouds seemed to always hover over this mansion. As in a sign of mourning for the old man who died there or a God's Hollywood prop to scare off wonderers, like herself. But she wasn't scared this time. No, merely worried was one thing. She was rather, curious and excited to be able to find someway into the mansion were rumors and myths were born from. Where a man supposably lived. A man with no hands. A man who was created instead of born.  
  
That man was called, Edward. Edward Scissorhands, to the people below living behind plastered walls and hid behind their telephone lines. Amy lifted a hand over her eyes to guard them from sunshine as she studied what she could see from the gates. A feeling deep in her gut told her to leave. Her hands tingled as they clutched the black camera. It was all too exciting. All she needed was a way to get through the gate and into the mansion.  
  
Anxiousness arose in her petite body when she thought, or knew, that it would probably be till tomorrow before she could find a way to get into the mansion. And even if she did, her father would be off. Off for the whole weekend. All she wanted was pictures, it wasn't too much to ask. And anyway, the man was dead. The man with no hands was dead. And had been for quite a long time. So her father's worries shouldn't lie right in the middle of rumors. Hell, thought Amy, if he would worry about something reasonable, he'd worry about snakes. Or her falling through rotted wood if she walked into the mansion. But he kept with the gossip just as well as the housewives gathered inside the small cul-de-sac. Amy sighed, letting go of the gate and began walking back down the path.  
  
She wished her mom was still here. Mother would let her go, for sure. As long as she was back before the streetlights came on. Or perhaps, mother wouldn't let her go exactly to the mansion at her own will, but she wouldn't stress it as much as her father did. His reputation had to look good. For business. For reputation. For friends and family.  
  
Amy really wished her Mother was still around.  
  
Wishing, she thought, never did anyone any good.  
  
Or so she thought. 


	2. Chapter 2

Great.  
  
The Marshall's were over today.  
  
Mom, Dad, and all seven kids who were under the age of 13.  
  
Dad said nothing of this to Amy. She didn't think he intended to anyway, since Amy never wanted to do anything. So the element of surprise was Dad's only weapon.  
  
"Amy," Her dad called out to her while holding a tray of hamburgers. Dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and an apron that read "Kiss the Cook!" in big bold letters. "take these out to the grill, would you?" Figured as much that the kitchen wasn't going to be a safe place today, thought Amy. But she took the tray with a small smile and walked out the glass door, into the back yard.  
  
The Marshall's were good friends with Amy's parents, even when her mother was alive. Amy set the tray down and began to flop down raw meat onto the grill. The grill welcomed it's new victims by hissing loudly. This made Amy's stomach turn, watching the bloody meat sizzle. Being a vegetarian, she had no interests in hamburger and hot dog weekend. Not much could be concentrated on with (From oldest to youngest) Billy, Hannah, Meagan, Ryan, Sue, Daisy, and Rebecca running around. Rebecca was still under a year old, but had the biggest mouth of them all. Amy turned to watch Mrs. Marshall pace the yard with the baby packed to her shoulder, attempting to shush the child's crying.  
  
"Hey Amy." Billy said, with saliva catching in his braces. His voice made Amy's stomach turn worse then the red meat on the grill.  
  
"Hi." She spitted out, gathering the tray in her hands and walking back inside. Billy followed, trying to think of the next line he should use to seduce Amy. Setting the empty tray down on the counter, she turned back to face her worse nightmare.  
  
13 year old Billy Marshall, was the biggest geek to ever live. Now don't get me wrong, Amy has no problem with 'geeks' and 'freaks' ect, ect.. But when it comes to snotty nosed, freckled covered red heads, rusty mouth, coke bottle glasses and no class or style, she had a problem. A big problem. Especially the ones who like her. Like Billy, for example. Some days Amy wished she was just as annoying, so possibly she could talk and talk until he had heard enough. Or maybe that would just attract him more. A sigh came from her throat. This was a lose or lose situation.  
  
"What do you want, Billy?" Amy asked coldly. Even if sometimes she regretted being so mean, it didn't matter. The boy was too ignorant to tell if she was annoyed or not. Or so it seemed.  
  
"You know what I want," Billy's voice drowning in his own saliva. He passed her a wink. Amy returned it with a snarl. "You're such a creep."  
  
Billy could only shrug as Amy stormed past him, not real clear on what exactly her problem was.  
  
This was not a good day. Not a good day at all. The sky was clear, and the air was fresh. But there wasn't anything to rejoice about this afternoon. Her dad had her doing maid work today. Billy "The Creep" Marshall decided to try his moves again this Saturday, and there was no where to escape for some "alone" time. Amy made her way out the front door. The muffled yells and laughter could still be heard, but thankfully not as loud. Amy hoped Billy wouldn't follow her out her. Now that she thought on it, she would definitely trade Billy for Andrew any day of the week. But being by herself was better then any of it.  
  
Grabbing the camera would have been a good idea. Glancing up at the mansion, it made her stomach curl. But not like the meat or Billy did. It was in a good way. Like the feeling of a first kiss (which Amy wouldn't know first hand, but saw plenty of movies), or the anticipation of seeing someone close to you you hadn't seen in years. She needed a way to get out there today. Possibly not today, but at least tonight. Her dad didn't pay any attention to her in the day as it is, so at night she'd definitely have a chance to wonder out there. Spooky, it would probably be. But with a flashlight she'd be able to chase anything "spooky" away. Telling herself this made her feel more comfortable and got rid of her cold feet. But how was she going to get through the gates? A crow bar, possibly. Somewhere in her garage there was bound to be one. It would be loud though, and attract unwanted guests. Like the cops.  
  
She also remembered that she had a flash on her camera, a good one. So maybe pictures at night were reasonable. Maybe one of the moon..  
  
Amy turned her eyes from the mansion, and to Andrew walking down her sidewalk. A tracker of where Peterson was would be a good Christmas present one year. Not having enough time to dash into the house and out of harm's way, she could only hope that A) He didn't spot her looking in his direction and B) He was still mad about her blowing him off yesterday. B was the answer, obviously. He continued walking, his eyes studying the cracks in the sidewalk. It almost made her feel bad that he wasn't going to talk to her, or that she hurted his feelings. But then she remembered the burgers on the grill. Saying a few words under her breath, she walked back into the house and to the back.  
  
Now that her Dad was worried she was going to leave the burgers to burn while he walked around with Mr. Marshall, joking and laughing, he left 8- year-old Meagan and 6-year-old Sue in charge of making sure Amy didn't leave. The tables had turned unfairly on her, but she didn't argue. It was best not to say anything to anyone. Except when Sue would try to touch the grill, then it was responsible to smack the back of her hand and say, "No." Although this was too much like watching a dog, it worked. Even if she did have a hissy fit, Sue would back up. Not saying that she would come back for more, but it worked for at least 5 minutes. Enough time for her to run to her mom and complain. Her mother would just shoo her back off with Meagan, telling her that she's trying to get Becca to sleep.  
  
After eating the last Veggie burger in the fredge, taking pictures of the Marshall's family with her camera for her dad, and cleaning dishes while her dad was in the office doing paperwork.. it was finally time to make a plan.  
  
There was a crow bar in the garage, and Amy packed that in her small backpack. A flashlight, her camera (plus film, extra batteries, and a flash), two energy bars and a pad and pen (no telling what she needed to note down). Other things came to mind also. What locks were on that gate? She remembered thick iron chains with a pad lock. Unzipping the backpack again, she pulled out the heavy orange (brownish because of rust) crow bar and held it in both hands. With enough force, she'd sure be able to jig the padlock off. She was only hoping there wouldn't be enough noise to disturb neighbors. It would have to work. And just incase she missed while slamming the bar into the lock, Amy packed a thick pair of winter gloves for safety.  
  
Now all she had to do was wait. Wait until her father went to sleep. Hopefully, the big day with the Marshall family would make her dad retire in early for the night.  
  
Amy glanced around her small room while sitting Indian style on top of her twin sized bed. Her pale blue walls were pinned, taped, glued and stapled with pictures Amy had taken over the past few years. Only a few were framed and hung on the wall. The ones her Photography teach, Mr. Raymond, suggested she framed since they were the best he had seen. Mr. Raymond seemed to be the only "normal" person to Amy in this town. He was calm, and expressed himself through painting of photos. She understood him, as oddly as it sounded. On the top of her nightstand, right beside her lamp, was a framed 8 x 10 glossy photograph of Amy and her mother, taken a year before she fell sick. She didn't stare at it long, she just reached over and turned off her lamp. Letting the moonlight guide her through her room. Checking everything once again in her backpack, she checked just one more time.  
  
Stepping outside the hallway, she could see that her dad's bedroom door was shut and the light was off. And that downstairs all the lights were off. Pressing the small button on her watch to make the face glow blue, she noticed it was only 9:20 P.M. With a grin of satisfaction, she knew she would have time to explore.  
  
Amy tip-toed quickly over to her backpack and grabbed ahold of one of the straps, slinging it over one shoulder. Amy slipped off her shoes so she could pace down the carpeted stairs quickly without so much noise. With just her socks, she was able to slip by silently. The front door was slowly and quietly opened and closed behind her.  
  
Bending over, she slid her feet back into her shoes. Amy adjusted her backpack, settling both straps on each shoulder and paced herself down the sidewalk quickly to the mansion.  
  
~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~  
  
AN: So.. how is it so far? These first two chapters were really just to get to know Amy and some of the characters. Next Chapter will be more about the main plot, I promise. Please R&R, I love to hear your opinions! 


	3. Chapter 3

It was darker than she had expected that night. Barely being able to tell the outlining of shrubs and bushes to tell where the chirping crickets came from. Even though she had a small travel flashlight with her, she didn't want to take the chance of turning it on and someone notice the light. As she followed the dark outline of the sidewalk, her gut began to twist into a knot. What if her dad woke up? Amy hadn't been nervous at all until she was at least a good two blocks from her small house.  
  
Then as she paced towards the mansion, she began to remember things she should have done. For instance, pack her bed with sheets and pillows to make it look like she was asleep in her bed. It was in the far corner of the room, so her father wouldn't have been able to tell the difference without his glasses. Especially at night.  
  
There was no time to go back now. Amy had to go to that mansion. The curiosity running through her blood was going to kill her if she didn't get to see what was in that mansion. It had been deserted for years, and no one dared to go back in after the stories of a strange man once in this neighborhood from that house up on the hill.  
  
Amy passed some of the time quicker by counting the steps to each curb, and usually about each block was 70 or so steps. The mansion grew closer, and you could even make out some of the huge windows up on the top floors. A grin struck up on Amy's face. What was she here for? To take pictures? Or to find out for herself what was really up there?  
  
With a snort, she convinced herself that there was not a damn thing up there but possibly old furniture (doubtful) and Cobb webs (most likely). So what was making her skin chill and her gut do back flips? It was that even though she had convinced herself that, there was still a possibility of something being up there. Other then that, if she got caught her dad would definitely have her head.  
  
All the worrying made the trip a lot faster, she was now at the path. It seemed longer then yesterday. A lot longer. Darker, too. Amy gripped the straps of the pack tightly, glancing up at the outlining of trees reaching the sky and the full moon lighting the tips. Another thing she had noticed that the crickets no longer sung once she had reached the path.  
  
Strange, but not enough to spook her just yet.  
  
Amy kept her eyes to the ground so she could attempt to make out small and large sticks, so she wouldn't trip or perhaps make too much noise before being a distance from the closest house, (Ms. Newberry, a mean old lady who just happened to be a light-sleeper). The dry leaves crunching beneath her sneakers made her nervous, and kept making her snap her attention towards anything that was stirred or disturbed.  
  
The iron bars of the gate were now visible, and not too far up ahead. If she had made it this far, there was no turning back now. That gate wasn't going to stand in the way between her and what her curiously was dying for.  
  
As she slid the backpack down her arms, and unhooked one arm from it to catch it in the other hand, she had to chuckle at herself. James Bond would have been proud of her, (for a pretty low budget, he should. She couldn't afford all the cool gadgets.) and she was pretty proud of herself as well. But the slight amusement at the time was the question, "What if there was absolutely nothing inside this old deserted mansion?"  
  
There was only one way to find out though.  
  
Kneeling down, Amy unzipped her bag quickly. And even the tearing noise from the zipper seemed to startle her. She reached into the bag, and felt around until her fingers tightened around the cold metal of the crow bar, and she pulled it out. Luckily and conveniently, the flashlight's hanger caught onto the bar. Pulling the flashlight off and clicking it on, she made sure that the flat end she needed was facing outwards. Running her thin and small fingers over the metal, she pulled herself to her feet.  
  
Amy tip-toed over to the gate, still paranoid of every sound. She reached up to grab ahold of the chain that weaved itself around the bars, and tugged it lightly. Even with the smallest pull to the chain, there were obvious signs that there was no way it was coming off easily. Letting a slow breath roll down her throat, she exhaled it just as slow. She held the small flashing with her teeth as she pulled out the pair of winter gloves, slipping them on as quickly as possible, holding the crowbar under her armpit. Even through her thick t-shirt, the metal was cold enough to sting through the material. This made Amy hasten her pace, and grip the bar once again. With her free hand, Amy reached up and through the thickness of night with the small hint of light from a half dead flashlight, she was able to spot out the padlock.  
  
After a few test hits, raising it as high as she would but slowly coming down to see how good her aiming was, she was ready to bust the gate open. And with a solid two hits, the padlock arm snatched free from itself, and Amy was able to pull it from the chain. The sound from the crowbar left her more paranoid and her heart racing faster now. It would be a little while before she would calm down completely.  
  
Amy set down the bar and slipped her small arms through the iron bars, unwrapping the chain to release the gate. Taking the chain and broken padlock, she tucked those into her bag along with the crowbar. Resting the backpack onto her back once again, Amy pushed the squeaking gates open enough for her slim body and bulky pack to slip through. There was a small trail to an outside courtyard, that she half expected to be overgrown with weeds and dried up into nothing but brown stiff lace scattered over land. And yet, what she had expect was clearly not what she saw. Yet, with her own two eyes, she saw life. Even in the thickness of the night, every bush and tree glowed with life. With the moonlight shinning down, it was clear to her that this place was well taken care of. But she couldn't come to as how it was. Was there another way into the mansion that no one knew about?  
  
But Amy's mind didn't trail off that far from the growth inside the small courtyard. The bushes were in odd shapes. In the dark you couldn't tell as to what they were, but you could tell that were designed into certain animals or figures. There were no words to describe the amazement in Amy's eyes. How could such a dead mansion have so much life buried inside? So many questions, and few little answers. Amy took her flashlight and patrolled it over the courtyard, soaking each green bush with light. Day time seemed too far away now, she -had- to be able to see this all under the afternoon sun.  
  
Then her flashlight began to flicker, the batteries dying on her. Amy glanced down and popped the side of it against her palm, but there was no hope for the small traveling flashlight. It soon flickered off and Amy was left to be consumed by the darkness.  
  
"Shit, I knew I should have brought more batteries." Amy murmured to herself. Stuffing the light into her back jean pocket, she hesitated before walking towards the huge mansion doors. Maybe it wasn't too good of an idea to walk into a big scary house with no light to protect you, Amy thought to herself.  
  
No way Mr. Bond would be proud now. Couldn't even remember spare batteries. You would be a shame to the agency, Amy Gibson.  
  
But, when things become disparate, there's sacrifices to be made. With only in a few minutes, Amy switched batteries out of her camera to go into her flashlight. She figured that the first night could be just for exploring, and the next for pictures and fun.  
  
Clicking the flashlight back to life, Amy stepped up to the wooden doors. A semi-circled metal knob was placed in the middle of the aged door. Now it was no surprise when she reached up and grabbed the knob that her hand was coated into webs and dust. She wiped off the knob and then her hand before attempting to push the door open. To her surprise though, the door came open with barely any trouble.  
  
Peeking in, the only light given to her was from the moonlight leaking in through holes in the ceiling. Everything that stood in the house was ingulfed in webbing. The floors were grey because of the layer of dust, as well as the walls. A sprial staircase lead up to the second floor. And it seemed as though more moonlight shinned from the top of the stairs then any down on the first floor.  
  
Amy hesitated and stood her ground for a few minutes, watching the stairs. The stairs, she could see, were made out of solid metal. So there was no chance of her falling through unless some pieces had rusted thin and weak.  
  
The stairs were not rusted, as she had thought. But rather all of them were still in meant condition for such an old house. No creaks came from the stairs as her sneakers made small "tip taps" up the large stairs. Moonlight filled the top of the mansion, the light pulling the role of a spotlight.  
  
And once approaching the gigantic attic with the hole in the roof, she came to realize why it was so bright in the mansion. This wasn't just any old hole, to let you know. It was monstrous. Amy could make out much of the sky and the full moon hanging behind grey clouds. Staring in awe of the sight that casted out from the huge hole, Amy hadn't even noticed the sharp blades in the corner, clicking and clanking back and forth ever so nervously..  
  
~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~  
  
Sorry that I actually didn't get to Edward yet! This Chapter took longer then I thought it would to get to it! So of course, the next chapter will be up (hopefully soon) and including Edward. :) Thank you, please R&R. 


	4. Chapter 4

Amy's eyes were only for the midnight sky, scanning over each small dot pierced into it. Her gaurd had gone down, and her body felt relaxed. She really should have found her way up her earlier in her life and not worry about the trouble she might get into. Amy's finger clicked off her flashlight, since the moon did it's own job of lighting up the attic just fine.  
  
A sigh came from her throat, enjoying the peaceful view.  
  
"What are you doing here?" A soft voice asked.  
  
Amy jumped, her heart jumping right along with her. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight as tension slammed into her chest, quickly slivering down her arms. For a moment, she couldn't exactly find a normal breathing rhythm, which frightened her more.  
  
Her head turned, and her ears grew aware of the blades, clinking back and forth. The glare from the moon showed only the blades moving, and they were lowered in someone's hands.  
  
The good feeling was gone. The stars seemed smaller and the comfort of her own bed seemed lovely now. The courtyard was overgrown with weeds and the house was dead. Nothing seemed as good as it had before. Curiosity -did- kill the cat, she was afraid.  
  
"W-who are you?" Amy belted out, her voice so loud it made her more nervous. Her hands were shaking too much for her finger to find the small button to switch back on the light. Which seemed to be a good thing at the time. Amy was, perhaps, even too afraid to see who it was. Her mind raced with thoughts and ideas. It couldn't be the man inside the myth. It couldn't be that same man who the story of him scared off curious kids (like herself) away from the mansion. But it had to be. She saw no other person up here at this time of night, with blades in their hands. Or for them..  
  
"Who are you?" Amy repeated, when there was no response and the man didn't move, only the blades did.  
  
Clink. Clank.  
  
By now she was calming down, but not enough to turn on the light. Maybe it was better not to see. Her heart was punching her in the ribs hard, and fast. But her breath was slowly decreasing back to a normal rhythm.  
  
Clink. Clink.  
  
Her hand gripped the flashlight so hard the tips of her fingers turned from a angry red to a pale white. Dammit, why wouldn't he answer? This frustrated Amy more then it scared her. Finally, her finger pressed down hard on the button to keep it steady. And when she let go, the light flooded the floor near her.  
  
The blades stopped. This obviously getting the man's attention. The man took a step closer towards the light, the blades twitching yet again. Not even fully into light you could make out a pale face. As pale as the moon that very night. Amy's hands were shaking again, the light from the flashlight jerked back and forth on the wooden floor. She wanted to stop being so nervous. Because she knew that her motions were only making the skittish man just as worse.  
  
Taking in a deep breath, she let it back out. "It's al right," She began, swallowing down her quiver in her voice. "I'm not going to hurt you." As soon as she said it, she felt more like an idiot then anything. -He- had the blades out in the open. Of course she had the crow bar and a heavy chain with a padlock on the end, but it would take a while to get it out and ready for anything. By his actions, however, the man seemed harmless.  
  
Soon, he took a few stiff steps, showing himself in full moonlight. As rude as it may had been, Amy couldn't hold back the gasp that sucked itself into her mouth, nearly choking her. Although she was in shock, it was soon pushed aside as sympathy ran through her gut, making it twist and knot into a bow.  
  
His pale face, greatly scarred, was thin and rather unhealthy looking. The jet black hair placed a top was ridiculously ratted, standing tall. The man's arms were spread out, in the position to take off and fly, so the blades wouldn't slash against his thighs. The thing that amazed her, and had proved the myths as true, was that the blades he did not carry in his hands, gripped by fingers. Yet, the blades were attached to his wrists, taking place of hands as well as fingers.  
  
Amy tried not to stare at the man's handicap, so her eyes shifted up to his. The black eyes (they were a dark brown, but could be easily mistaken for a jet black) of the man seemed worried, almost frightened. His purplish lips were rather pouty, and trimbling. Seeing his nervousness, Amy felt herself relax once again. A smile crept to the corners of her lips.  
  
"Why, you're just as nervous as I am." Amy stated gently, taking a step towards him, but stopped when he quickly moved back. His bladed fingers twitched back and forth quickly once again, his eyes glued to her's. Amy didn't know what to do at first, in all honesty. Her mind couldn't really take it all in that she was here, and he was there. That the man was real. Amy dropped her backpack to the ground, making a loud "thud". The man's eyes jerked to the pack, his lips puckering slightly.  
  
It didn't seem right, nor polite, to introduce herself by shaking hands. And at the time she couldn't really think of a polite gesture to give him. The last thing she wanted was for him to be afraid of her. Still, the blades shifted. He was so antsy, like a nervous child. Now that she thought about it, all together he was rather... childish. The look in his eyes, and the softness in his voice when he had spoke earlier.  
  
"My name's Amy," She said this with the brightest smile she could put on. "what's your's?" This seemed like a logical way to start a conversation with someone you didn't know.  
  
Clink. Clank. Clink.  
  
"Edward." And Edward returned the smile, although it was faint and hard to see in the dark. But Amy could recognize the smile by the brightness that sparkled in his eyes.  
  
"You don't mind that I'm up here, do you?" Not wanting to be a burden, Amy bent over to grab her backpack. Edward shuffled over closer to her, quickly replying, "No." He stopped when Amy glanced up, letting go of the bag to stand up straight. "Not at all." His voice had relaxed back to the soft murmur again. Since he'd came so close, Amy could make out his outfit better then before. The leather looked at though it was painted onto his thin body. Straps and hoops decorated it all over. And even his boots were attached to his bondage. Amy swallowed hard again, forcing a smile, but her eyes wouldn't leave the blades.  
  
Clank. Click. Swipe. Swipe.  
  
Amy switched off the light again, and her sight of Edward became faint once again. Seeing no response from him, her smile faded. Remorse filled her lungs, breathing it in better then she could breathe it out. It made her uncomfortable. Now that she knew that he was up here, by himself, Amy didn't even worry about her fears, or of her panic earlier. Just what was up in this attic with her. Now she didn't want to be rude, or unfriendly to him. Besides, there was no reason. No form of sign came from Edward to make her feel threatened. Yet, sympathy seemed sappy and too automatic. Yes he was handicapped. Yes, he was by himself. But she didn't need to show her remorse with a hug and many, "Awws".  
  
Attempting more conversation, she thought of another question to ask him before the akward silence drowned them both.  
  
"How long have you been here?" Amy asked, tucking her hands deep into her jean pockets, feeling the balled up wrapper of a piece of gum from earlier that day. Edward turned his body to the side, glancing from the corner he came from.  
  
Clank. Clank. Click.  
  
His hair didn't even budge when he snapped his head towards her for a moment. Nothing did besides the blades, which were constantly in motion.  
  
"Too long," Edward hushed, turning fully around to walk back into the darkness, it wrapping around him like a large blanket. Amy could still hear the blades and the sound of the metal hoops on his outfit scrape against the wooden wall as he sunk back down into the corner.  
  
"Much too long."  
  
~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~  
  
Now, I -finally- got Edward in! It's not as good as I wanted it, but I thought it was a decent entry for him. What do you think? R&R please!! :) 


	5. Chapter 5

There was something about Edward that definitely sparked an interest in Amy. No, it wasn't just the silver, slightly rusted, blades that replaced his hands. Rather it was his mysterious and childish actions and words. It was made obvious that he wanted attention, and that he needed it. There was no telling how long Edward had been in this mansion by himself. He had kept himself entertained with the brushes outside, that was for sure. But when winter came around what was there for him to do?  
  
Amy glanced over to the wall beside her, noticing clippings from newspaper articles and pictures. Not just any pictures. There were hands. Fingers. A boy reading brazil with his fingertips. All these tasks that were consider easy for, such to say as herself, but impossible for the incomplete man sitting in the corner. Amy bit her bottom lip in frustration, turning her neck to glance back over at the dark corner. Edward had calmed himself down only a little, but the blades were still in motion. Bending over, Amy unzipped her pack. Digging at the bottom she pulled out her two energy bars that she had packed with her. She didn't bother zipping it back up. Instead she stood straight and walked slowly over to the corner Edward sat at.  
  
"Are you hungry?" Amy asked, looking blindly where he sat, but wasn't able to see him very well. There wasn't an answer for a moment, and if there was it was only a gesture she wasn't able to make out. In aggravation, Amy had began to find it pointless to try and make conversation with a man who wasn't willing to make one with her. But she knew she had to take consideration that he probably hadn't communicated with anyone in years. "I have these energy bars, if you like them." Amy knew that he didn't like or dislike them. Edward had probably never had one in his life. After a moment, Amy gripped her flashlight and switched it on towards him, and Edward jerked slightly at the light. His eyes half way shut, he glanced up at her.  
  
He had his knees drawn to his chest and his elbows resting a top of them, the blades dangling with only a bit a movement. Amy made the attempt of holding out the bars to him, showing that that was all she held. "I think they're pretty good." Amy made a faint attempt to smile, though Edward probably couldn't see it. Edward looked at her hand with the small rectangular bars wrapped in foil. With a small nod, Edward reached out for the bar without really thinking about it. His motion was so fast that with the swipe of the blade and the quick movement it made Amy gasp, jerking her hand back.  
  
Edward jerked back as well, huddling himself closer to the corner. There was too much tension for either of them to handle. And with the way things were going right now, they were both going to be quivering with their own nervousness that neither will want to speak. But as afraid as Amy was, she still couldn't help but feel awful about being so jumpy around him. So with a lick to her shaky lips, Amy knelt down in front of him.  
  
"I'm really sorry," Amy held out one of the bars again once Edward looked back at her. "You just startled me, that's all." Amy apologized, waiting for him to possibly accept it. While holding out the bar and the flashlight drawn near, she could see that her clock read only a little pass midnight. Edward, this time with much precaution, reached for the bar, and took it gently between the blades. It amazed Amy how suddle he could be with the sharp blades that could easily slice through anything. Although she had came to notice that when excited, it could be a little risky around him (which Amy also noted that this was -not- Edward's fault). Amy watched him, and saw that even as gentle as he was, the sticky bar was still sliced and ended up sticking to one of the blades, even when he pulled him apart. A small giggle came from Amy's throat, which was surprising even to herself. The look on Edward's face as he watched the bar, and even shook his "hand" just a bit.  
  
"Maybe that wasn't a good idea right now." Amy told him. Edward's eyes focused on Amy again, and with softness yet again asked, "Why so?" His voice caught Amy off guard, since she had adjusted to just her one-sided conversation.  
  
"So, he speaks." Amy said while reaching out to grip his wrist faintly, pulling the bar from the blade, leaving the spot sticky. It had become odd for Amy to be so gentle and light with him. Something about him made her feel comfortable, no matter how afraid she was. She suppose that she treated him like a child. But most of them she didn't really like and was rather bossy or mean to them, so quickly she took that exsumption back. This was different. Thinking about, she guessed she could relate it to a friend, but she wasn't too experienced in that area either. So all this seemed unfamiliar to Amy. Something she couldn't quite lay a finger on.  
  
"I don't think it's a good idea right now because it's kind of hard for you to eat like that." Amy pointed out. And to not hurt his feelings, Amy shoved the bars in her pocket and decided to save them for later. Holding the flashlight to Edward's chest, she was able to get a good look at his face without blinding him. Edward's lips were still just as pouty, and looked more nervous now. Feeling comfortable enough, and possibly foolish enough, Amy placed two finger tips on one of the scars that stretched from his cheekbone down to his chin. Edward jumped at her touch, but didn't move away. His blades stopped twitching, and his curious eyes were kept on his fingers as they were dragged gently more towards his chin. Amy knew this was strange to the man, but she had to touch him. And as was pointed out earlier, this was all unfamiliar territory, for both of them. Perhaps it was unfamiliar for Edward, but it was certainly recognizable from years and years ago.  
  
"Edward, you're going to have to take better care of yourself." Amy's eyes stayed on his scars, noticing that some where rather old and some recent. As jumpy and nervous as he was, this was no surprise to her why he was so cut up. She moved her hand away from his face, and glanced back to his eyes, which were still watching her's with so many emotions tossed into two pools that it wasn't exactly readable. For a moment, Edward just switched the blades that hung over his knees, but moved very little since Amy was so near to him. To him, there was no reason to pamper himself. Besides of course the feeling did hurt, and was painful for days if it got dirty. But appearance wise he had absolutely no reason. Which Amy would understand. A beauty pageant wasn't going to be held anytime soon, and very doubtful that Edward would join.  
  
But, back to the main point, Edward was feeling strange yet appealing things when Amy spoke, or touched him. And to Amy, the same thing. It was fascinating to Amy that he really was up in the attic. And tales had been twisted that he was an evil man, one that would kill if someone came to his mansion. Now Amy knew for herself that this man was no killer, and certainly didn't have a heart to do so. She did hear that he had killed a man, but Amy couldn't believe any of that now. Now that she met him.  
  
How the Grinch stole Christmas would make a wonderful example of how her feelings were changing so quickly. Or at least Amy thought so. Let's just hope her heart didn't get too big, with very little to fill it up with.  
  
"You shouldn't be so nervous all the time, so you wouldn't cut and hurt yourself," Amy continued on. Edward's face lightened. Although he did not smile, his face relaxed. In that man-made heart of his, he felt a feeling he hadn't felt in years. A feeling of being cared for, and accepted. Since he hadn't talked to anybody in so long, perhaps it was possible for Edward to get attached easily. Or, at the time it was. But he did keep in mind of all the things that went wrong with keeping contact with the outside world. But his thoughts were drowned out by Amy speaking again.  
  
"And besides that," Amy adjusted herself Indian style on the wooden floor. "Kids are mean these days. If they saw you like that, you'd get nicknames like... Scarface or something."  
  
"But they won't see me." Edward sternly added in, which didn't sound to stern anyone's ear, but it was. Believe me. There was no way he would venture back into that neighborhood.  
  
"Well, I never said they would. I'm just hypothetically speaking..." Amy reassured him.  
  
"Thank you." Edward replied. Not exactly sure why he was thanking her, Amy hesitated for a moment. But with a slight nod, and a small smile, she answered him.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
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Please R&R!! :) Thank you! 


	6. Chapter 6

Amy stared down at the rubber eggs and greasy ham that was slapped onto a plate. For a moment she watched her dad pace around the house, cursing under his breath and complaining where his briefcase was. Peering up, Amy saw the brown leather case sitting latched on top of the entertainment center in the living room, but didn't say a word. For one, she was too tired to even complain to her dad about the food he had made. Her dad knew she was a vegetarian, but still managed the one time he cooks a meal to give her meat. But, at least he was generous to make her food, so she didn't comment.  
  
The phone rang, and her father rushed to it, picking up rather urgent.  
  
"Kim? Hey, I'm searching for my case and I should be out. Did Rick give you the papers like I told him too?" Her father rambled off. Amy just poked and prodded the poor eggs with her fork, watching them jiggle in response.  
  
The sun seemed too bright for last night to be so dark and.. unique. It spilled through the blinds and made Amy squint her eyes. She hadn't got more then two or so hours of sleep before her father woke her up, wanting to make her breakfast. Amy watched her father more. By the way he acted, he must had felt he was going to win a case today.  
  
She'd turned her head and noticed he'd found the briefcase. Finally she threw the eggs and ham down the food processor when her Dad disappeared, putting them both out of their misery (Not sure if she was speaking of the food, or just herself). Amy felt fine, and felt normal. Except the turning and knotting feeling in the pit of her stomach. With a kiss on the forehead while she had her arms soaked to the elbows in dishwater, her dad was out the door. It was like this about every morning. Real quick conversation, and then home alone most of the day. Usually there was no where to go, so sleeping was a good idea. And today, she decided she needed a little more sleep.  
  
It couldn't have been two hours in bed before the phone rang. Cussing loudly, Amy jerked over towards the side of the bed and snatched the phone up, putting it to her ear.  
  
"Hello?" She croaked. The last voice Amy wanted to hear was Andrew's, but it was the first to her ear. "Hey Amy, can you come over for a little while?" Andrew sounded rather desperate, since his voice was hurried. Amy had planned to go and sneak off to the mansion when she had woken, and see Edward and his great garden work, as she had promised so. But since she hadn't intenually upset her latest stalker, she figured it wouldn't hurt to go see him. Even if it was against normal Amy Gibson.  
  
"Yeah,"-Amy shrugged-"let me get dressed. I'll be over in a few." And with a short bye, she hung up the phone and groaned loudly into her pillow. Guys were just not her expertise. Hiding from or Greeting them didn't either seem like good options. At least she felt up to being neutrally nice today.  
  
Amy knocked three times on Andrew's wooden door before taking a step back. She had time to smooth out her ebony turtle neck sweater, and run her hands down the thighs of her crisp jeans. Comfortable and not too dressed up (so Andrew "Stalker" Peterson had got no ideas) she waited at his doorstep. The white door pulled open, and Andrew poked his head out with the phone to his ear. He held up his hand and mouthed, "Just a sec'" before closing the door again. Amy got slightly irritated at it, but never the less, waited as told to do. For that moment, her mind wondered off to other places. Like what Edward was doing right now. God, she hoped he didn't think she wasn't going to show before it got dark. Looking at her watch, she didn't see why she was worrying so much. It only read 10:15. Cocking an eyebrow, she now wondered why Andrew had invited her over so early. Usually Andrew didn't see daytime until he only had a few hours to enjoy it. Amy envied that.  
  
Andrew came out again, and Amy stepped back to give him room to get out and close the door. Amy had gotten use to the look Andrew would give her before smiling calmly. He didn't seem to annoying today, and she didn't snarl this time. But, her mind was off in other places still.  
  
"So, what's up?" Amy asked, as in expecting something urgent or important.  
  
He just shrugged. "Just wanted you to get out of the house for once." Andrew replied, his voice calmer then usual. Amy sighed, smirking faintly. For the record ladies and gentlemen, that would be the closest Amy's ever gotten to 'smiling' at Andrew, or most people to be exact. "I should have figured as much."  
  
Andrew laughed, tossing his whole head to one side to move his bangs out of his eyes. He was about her age, at seventeen, but you'd think by the way he acted that he was older. Most of the time he was quiet, but not really around Amy. He had this idea, scraped into his skull, that Amy deep down was really a nice person. And could be a great person if someone could crack her hard shell that she had formed over the years. Which Amy knew was true, but she wasn't going to let him get to her. His efforts usually lead to Amy just clamming up more, attempting to prove his ideas as false and ridiculous.  
  
"So, you want to come inside? If you're thirsty, I just made some Sweet Tea." Usually Andrew was always home alone, Amy hadn't seen cars in his driveway for days at a time. And if there was, it was only his green Honda, that died in the lawn, where it rest in peace to this day. Amy hesitated, but figured she might as well since she had came over anyway. With a shrug, Amy followed Andrew "Happy-go-lucky" Peterson inside. He walked rather quickly towards the kitchen, but Amy just slowly shuffled along. Although the house beamed with color, the house had no life. Only a few lights were turned on. Shinning on a neatly, but dead, home. Andrew offered Amy a sit, and with a nod she took it.  
  
Andrew pulled out the pitcher of Tea he had made, the container still warm. Pouring cups, he began to talk.  
  
"What's the change in you, Amy? You seem," he paused, but the tea still poured. "happy." Andrew set the pitched down, turning to Amy with a gentle smile, small top teeth in a straight line shined white. "Told you some sleep would do you good." There he goes again, Amy thought, Trying to prove her as just as happy as anyone else. Amy Gibson was no anyone else. But she offered a small smile, but it quickly disappeared as he turned his back to her.  
  
"Do you want lemon?" Andrew continued, putting the half full (or empty. You choose) pitcher back into the fredge. Amy nodded. Pulling out a small lemon and a knife, he began to slice.  
  
"Ms.Newberry was talking to my mom this morning," Andrew grabbed her attention, although Amy's eyes scanned the photos on the walls. "Said she held some racket last night." Amy's heart skipped a beat, and she turned to Andrew with a cool, calm expression on her face. "Oh, really?" Even her voice was controlled. Andrew nodded, still slicing. "She said it was near the mansion." Amy rolled her eyes, looking back at the pictures. "Ms.Newberry is senile, Andrew. She always hears things." Amy pointed out. She heard him chuckle, his back still to her.  
  
On the walls hung pictures of Andrew, mostly. Some of possibly cousins, and grandparents. There were no recent pictures of Andrew nor his parents. This made Amy curious, but figured they were probably back in the living room. Then there was a small Polaroid picture that was placed inside a green frame. The boys looked about 10 or so, and they looked exactly alike. The had their arms draped over each other, grinning from ear to ear with teeth missing. To the side, linking arms with one boy was a girl who appeared around the same age, and looked similar to the boys. She smiled, but showed no teeth.  
  
Amy turned back to Andrew, who was still carefully disecting the lemon.  
  
"Andrew?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You never told me you had a twin." Amy pointed out, noticing one boy as Andrew from the four dark freckles close to his lips that you could connect, and form a lop-sided square. Andrew snorted, his words cutting deeper then the blade he held.  
  
"You never gave me the time to tell you." Andrew silently dropped the lemon pieces into their drinks, and put the rest in a zip-lock back. Amy deflated into her seat, her eyes watching Andrew. When he turned to the side to toss the lemon pieces back into the fredge, she could see him frowning. And in return, her lips sunk into a frown and her brows falling into a concered, and apologtic expression. Amy wasn't one to feel sorry for things, espicually with Andrew, but she had never heard such hurt words come from him. He would usually blow what she said off, or attempt to make it something happy, or as a joke. Andrew placed the cup infront of Amy, and then sat down across from her with his own.  
  
His eyes shifted to the picture, watching it for a moment. Studying it. With a smile, he looked back at Amy, who was sipping the bitter sweet tea. "Actually, I'm a triplet." He informed her, chugging at his drink before setting it back down. Amy lightened up when he began to speak again. "Where are they? I've never seen them." Amy asked, but knew right away she shouldn't have. His eyes fell to the table, and his lean fingers stroked the moist glass.  
  
"Dead. Both of them."  
  
Amy held her breath, hanging her head to watch the cubes of ice float in her brown tea. "Andrew I'm so sorry-"  
  
Andrew cut her off, "It's fine, I didn't invite you over here to tell you my problems. I invited you over to talk about you." Andrew looked at her, and it was obvious that he was holding back tears that he'd rather just pour out till his body hurt. It was killing Amy that Andrew could be nothing more then sweet to her. And yet, through the year she had known him, she was so mean to him.  
  
"Well then," Amy stated. "Let's talk."  
  
~+~+~+~~+~+~+~+~  
  
I wanted you to get to know the characters just a little bit more, since this story (from what I see so far) well be fairly long. Tell me what you think, and any suggestions or comments are welcomes. Constructed critiziam is, as well. Please R&R! 


	7. Chapter 7

The sun was high in the sky about the time Amy made it towards the mansion, and was scorching outside. Kids jumped and leaped around in any sources of water. At the time though, most were chasing the ice cream truck in their swimsuits with their dollars swinging in the air, yelling. This distraction made it easier to get into the mansion path unseen, since every Marshall kid, besides the baby, trailed behind the truck like a banner.  
  
Amy had been right. The courtyard was just as amazing as it was at night, if not more. Edward was no where to be seen, so she assumed he was still in the mansion. Glancing at her watch, it was all most one o' clock in the afternoon. Before going to the mansion, she had swung by her house and had enough time to grab her camera and put in new batteries, as well as call her dad to make sure what time he'd be home. His "Late" usually meant around 6 or so. So she definitely had time to pay a nice visit. With her camera hung about her neck, bobbing slightly with her fast pace, Amy went casually into the mansion with soft items tucked under her arm.  
  
Even as bright as it was outside, the mansion was still just about as dark as it was at night. Birds could be heard chirping, and it was obvious that sparrows were nesting up in the rafters on the old mansion. Amy looked up at the ceiling while making her way up the stairs, seeing birds flutter by and nestle into small holes. Some holding various items in their small beaks, sticks longer then their short pudgy bodies.  
  
"Edward!" Amy called out before reaching the attic, giving him fair warning if he happened to be up there. The slash of blades made it certain that he was up in the attic. Amy walked in, greeted by the enormous hole in the ceiling. Often since last night she wondered how it got there. Weather, probably. She turned her head to see Edward standing, looking at her with a faint smile, his bladed fingers swaying back and forth.  
  
"Why aren't you outside, Edward? It's a beautiful day." Amy commented, setting the cloths under her arm on the floor near her. Edward scuffed over Amy's way, then stopped near her. "I was waiting for you." He replied. Honestly fluttered and at the same time, guilty for taking so long, Amy stalled for a moment before snatching the cloths back up. "Well, shall we go outside?"  
  
Amy strolled slowly beside Edward as they made their way through the courtyard, Amy bewildered by it. "So, you did all this by yourself?" Amy asked, which was quite ridiculous for her to ask. She knew he did. It was a conversation starter, though. Edward nodded with a short, "Mmhmm."  
  
"It's amazing." Amy stood in awe in front of the carefully cut hand that reached up with curled fingers to the summer's sky. Small assorted flowers surrounded the bottom, and the whole masterpiece was fenced by a small brick wall. Edward nervously stood by her sides, keeping his blades in constant motion as usual. Amy stepped back while gripping her camera and with the click of the shutter in motion, Amy caught the wonder in color. Instead of black and white, as usual. But Amy would have to think twice before actually showing these to anybody. Perhaps she would just keep the beauty to herself, and Edward. After closing in on some of the flowers and snapping photos, she realized Edward was no longer by her side.  
  
Amy stood straight, and turned to her left--then right and saw Edward, snipping and snapping away. Turning an innocent green bush into a living work of art, a masterpiece. Just standing there, she soaked in the scene. Edward's shadow like colors near the bright colors of nature seemed unrealistic. But it was beautiful. Amy couldn't resist. Adjusting the camera, she snapped photos of Edward at his best. His eyes squinted and his lips puckered, concentration was easily read on his face. Soon before she knew it, Amy's camera began auto-rewind. All ready her film was out, and that was the only film she had with her.  
  
"Dammit, I can never remember anything." Amy complained, and let the full camera digest the film while resting over her breast. By the time she was done with her camera, Edward was stepping back to exzaming his latest work. Reaching up to snip one last steam, it was complete.  
  
He had turned the Box shrubbery into an outlining of a girl, which was obviously Amy. She just gawked at it, not helping the smile curling at her lips. "Oh, Edward! That's.. that's great!" Amy shouted, very flattered. Edward smiled, glad he had done something right and something that made his new aquired friend happy. This was all new, for both of them. Well, Amy of course realized that he had to be one of the best a topiary in the world, but it wasn't that. It was the feeling. The feeling of making someone happy, and the feeling of being happy. Amy hadn't had many people go out and try to make her feel better. Of course Andrew had, and she had been so blind to see it. Amy had been so blind to the world. Ever since her mom died, she felt everything had died in her as well. But it hadn't. Edward had cut her into beauty. Each individual leave beaming with life and color, and held it's place tightly. He had captured the waves in her hair, but not in defined detail. Still, for cutting it out of a bush, the waves were detailed enough for her.  
  
Without thinking, Amy hugged the man, her camera pressed into his leather suit and the metal hoops hitting the camera made a tip tap and clinking sound. Edward stumbled back, but kept his footing. Her body made him feel he had comfort, as she did as well. There was comfort in the moment. And with the grace of a swan, he wrapped his leather and steel wings around the small girl, holding her close but gently. He inhaled the smell of her shampoo, not being able to put a name to the scent, since he wasn't too good with various smells besides the flowers that grew in his courtyard.  
  
Amy let go, and looked up at Edward. "I brought you something today." She said, her arms still chilled from being pressed to the metal hoops in his suit. She turned and grabbed the cloth, holding it out to him. "For when you get cold at night when fall and winter comes around, you can cover up with this." Amy went on as she placed it on top of his blades. "It was my mother's. She loved it cause it was warm enough of winter nights but it's comfortable enough on summer nights like these." Amy was going to tell him how dear it was to her, since she no longer had her mother, but decided not to. He seemed grateful enough without connecting a story to it. Amy walked him back into the mansion and with a spare handkerchiefs that was left in her pocket, she whipped his blades clean of leave clippings and dirt. By the time she was done the handkerchief was stained with grass and dirt. Amy laid out the blanket for Edward. With her experience using scissors, she showed Edward how to pick it up without cutting or clipping the edges he grabbed. Edward watched Amy's every move with his wonderous eyes, and jumped to her touch. But at the same time, was relaxed by her hand placed on his wrists or shoulder.  
  
It was nearly 4 o' clock before Amy had to say bye, and sneak back out of the mansion passage without being noticed by neighbors. There were none in sight as she walked out and strolled the sidewalk, but no telling how many were inside window watching. Neighbors usually had an eye on Amy Gibson. Mostly because they were frustrated they didn't know enough about her as they wanted to.  
  
Getting home, she checked the messages. 3 new messages. Two were for her Dad, which she quick switch when she heard, "Hey Marc" or "Mr.Gibson". But the last one was from Andrew, sounding calm. The first time she didn't hear the message, because she was in the thought on how he got her phone number anyway. It wasn't hard. Everyone had everyone else's personal information, anyway. She pressed the back button to hear it again.  
  
"Hey Amy, it's Andrew. Um, listen.. I was just wondering if you wanted to go out sometime this week. Like to a movie or something but if you don't want to that's fine, I'll understand. Just call me back when you can, okay? Later.--BEEP-- End-of-messages." Amy laughed at the message, his voice so hesitant and nervous. Amy pressed the delete button, only so her dad wouldn't find it. But the good mood Amy had been in since that night, she would actually consider going out somewhere with Andrew "Soft-heart" Peterson.  
  
Amy took off her camera and placed it on the desk in her blackroom, before closing the door. Walking towards her bed she took off the thin sweater she had rolled the sleeves up on earlier, and slipping on a tank top. After changing into some comfortable pants, Amy flopped down on her bed to stare at her white ceiling.  
  
Maybe things weren't so bad for her, Amy thought. Maybe Amy just made them worse then they really were Because -she- was hurt didn't mean she had to make everyone else hurt with her. A swarm of guilt formed in her throat for a moment, enough to make her have to breathe sharply. But, with a suddled change of heart, Amy picked up the phone to call Andrew.  
  
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Hope you like! Please R&R! 


	8. Chapter 8

Amy felt guilty that she didn't have time to visit Edward today, and ask him how he liked his blanket. She sunk small round earrings into the holes in her ear, clasping it on the other side. Looking at herself in a mirror, she seemed slightly different. In fact, she was unnoticable. If her father wasn't out of town, he would have been astonished to see his little girl. Her brown wavy hair tied into a ponytail just so, and her emerald eyes surronded by a light layer of make-up to match the brown blouse and jean skirt. This wasn't Amy. Amy didn't feel like Amy. But a feeling in her gut made her want to be something new. It wanted her to dress-up, have fun, and smile. She let out a sigh and smiled to herself.  
  
Amy slipped her feet into a brown pair of sandles, that covered the top half of her feet. Lightly tanned pantyhose hid her pale complection and prickly legs. She had never been too fond of shaving frequently, and would find ways to hide it.  
  
She had told Andrew that she'd go with him, but only as friends. He agreed, sounding as though he expected no more out of her in the first place. As much as Amy felt herself changing in such a short amount of time, she was still putting up her guard. Nothing wrong with that, she assumed. Amy watched herself in the mirror, thinking about what she was doing. Recently, she hadn't needed to take pills to get herself to sleep. In a way, stunned her but made her.. proud of herself. Her eyes weren't dark like, "raccon eyes" as Andrew would say. But she was still awfuly tired.  
  
There was a few knocks at the door, and then it ceized. Amy walked down the stairs and as she went made sure the backdoor was locked. Amy held her breath as she opened the door to Andrew, which she quickly released. She could see now that she wasn't the only person who looked unnocitable. The expressions on each of their face showed it. Andrew, even with Amy in pumped-sandles, still towered over her. His black hair was parted to the side, his shaggy bangs hanging over one eye. His lean and tall body consisted of a fitted grey shirt, the front tucked under a black belt and tight jeans that stuck to his thighs, and squared out at his shoes. He had his hands nervously tucked into his back pockets, showing Amy a wide smile, which she returned (not as well as him though).  
  
"Wow.." Andrew looked at Amy, still smiling. "..You look.. different." "Is that good?" asked Amy. Andrew nodded. "Yes. You look, refreshed. Shall we say." He laughed, and Amy followed his lead. Amy felt flattered, and felt wanted. And wondered now why she never paid attention to Andrew. He was handsome, in a nerdy way. And his heart was more then soft.  
  
Andrew's laugh faded, and his eyes grew serious. "Not to mention Amy, you look goregous." Andrew said just above a whisper. Amy smiled, feeling her cheeks flush. "Andrew, don't get all mushy on me. Friends, remember?" Amy reminded him. Andrew just sighed. "I remember, Amy. I'm not allowed to compliment the lady?"  
  
"You mean 'hit on' her?" "Not at all," Andrew added. "Only complimenting."  
  
Amy took his word, not up for a debate. "So where are we going?" Andrew grinned to her question, pulling a bandana out of his back pocket, dangling it in the air. "It's a surprise." Amy rolled her eyes, snorting.  
  
"No way." She told him, having to look up at him. Andrew still dangled the black bandana in his right hand, grinning. "Why not? You'll like it, trust me." The words 'trust me' seemed very serious through his sparkling dark eyes, that now reminded her of stars pinched into a grey sky. Amy deflated, and with one firm foot turned to the side, she also turned her body around.  
  
"Fine, go ahead." She tried not to sound too blant about it so it wouldn't make him feel nervous and/or bad. Andrew jumped to the chance, and drapped his hands over her shoulders. Taking the bandana and pressing it to her eyes, he tied it into a small knot behind her head, tight enough so it won't slip. Amy couldn't even see a light through the fabric, so it obviously worked good. Feeling a little nervous now, Amy turned very slowly and reached out like a baby, trying to find any ground (Andrew) to lean on. Her small hands pressed against his chest, feeling the cotton fabric on his shirt. "Okay Andrew, where now?" Andrew gripped her wrist gently, tugging her forward softly enough to give her the hint to walk. And she did cautiously, even if she knew her driveway was practically all flat.  
  
"To my car, and the rest? Well, that's why you have the blindfold on." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leading her to his car. Amy feet shuffled, kicking up small pieces of gravel and also pebbles. "You better not try to seduce me, or something like that." Amy made clear, but still could sound light about it. A deep, hearty laugh came from Andrew. "Promise you, that I won't." The idea sounded so good to him, something he wanted to do. To kiss her, and hold her. In a sense, as he glanced down at her blinded face, he was holding her. And she had to find comfort in it, and relax into his touch. Because if she didn't trust him, well, she'd run into something, or possibly fall. Andrew smiled, and did so comfortably since she wasn't able to see.  
  
Andrew stopped her infront of his car and got her safetly into it without her bumping her head, or shutting a body part in the door. Once that was settled, Andrew got into the car as well, pulling out of the driveway. Amy felt weird sitting beside Andrew in the car, but not being able to see where they were going. Infact, she hadn't even paid enough attention to tell what direction they turned in. There was a small chat in the car, not enough to mention. Amy wipped her clammy hands on the her thighs, running her hands back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Andrew noticed, and placed a hand ontop of her's. Amy's hands stopped and chills screamed up her arm like a banshee.  
  
"Calm down," Andrew said very calmly. "you'll like where you're going." Amy leaned into the cushion of the seat, the noises outside drownded by the faint radio. His hand moved, but Amy's did not. With a deep breath, she did relax, closing her eyes and not struggling to try to see anything from the bandana. It was later in the evening, so the sun was low enough that the trees could easily hide most of it's shine. Amy liked it like this. But really liked it that she couldn't see the back of her hand with the folded bandana over her eyes. Even with Andrew, she was relaxing. A guy driving a car while you're blind folded isn't much to relax about, but she did anyway. Andrew didn't have much to say after that, nor did he make enough motion for Amy to pick up on. He just leaned back into his seat, both hands over the wheel while driving, which wasn't a long drive at all. Eventually he did stop, short enough to get Amy's attention.  
  
"This wasn't a long drive." Amy said, sounding a bit startled. "It doesn't have to be far from home for you to like it." Amy heard the car door open, the annoying "ding-ding-ding-ding" began, but ceising quickly when the door shut again. Soon Andrew also had Amy out of the car, his hand placed at her hip while the other on her arm.  
  
"You ready?" Andrew said just above a whisper, the feeling of his breath brushed against Amy's neck and face like soft, soft material. Andrew walked behind her, almost pressing his chest against her back. Amy laughed nervously, keeping her hands to her side. "Sure Andrew, why not."  
  
Amy felt Andrew's hands begin to untie the knot, and the knot in Amy's stomach only grew tighter. Her hands curled into fists, to the point her chewed-off fingernails bit cresent moons into the palms. The fabric covering her eyes slid to the side, and the shine from the sun reached under her eyelids as her eyes still stayed shut.  
  
"Open your eyes."  
  
Amy opened them, and nearly became sick to her stomach. The courtyard. The giant hand in the middle of it all. The glowing life from the garden now made her wish she would have declined Andrew's offer to go out. Amy smiled, though she was raging inside. Turning quickly around to Andrew, she bared the stiff smile on her face.  
  
"Andrew, how'd you get in here?" She tried to sound happy, but even she knew it came out stern. The expression on his face changed, and his eyebrows sunk into confusion. He pointed behind him to the gate. "I saw the gate's lock was off when passing by one day, and I know you walked around here a lot. And I thought you'd want to see it." He confessed the best he could. Amy gulped, turning back to the courtyard.  
  
"You know, I wonder who does all this." Andrew pointed out.  
  
Oh how Amy wanted to reply, 'Edward did.' But she knew she couldn't do so. But she did know that she needed to get out soon, espciually with Andrew with her. Fear gathered around her nervousness like a neatly wrapped present. She was going to faint it she didn't get out.  
  
"Andrew, this is nice and all but I think we should leave." "Why?" Andrew frowned. He looked hurt. "Because, I've been told not to go here. And you know the stories." She tried to find a good reason, but not much came to mind. Amy knew the "stories" personally. She had talked to them, and gave them a cover for cold nights.  
  
Andrew grew definsive, almost a little too fast. "For God's sake, Amy. You're 17-years-old, won't you be able to grow up?"  
  
Oh, no he didn't.  
  
Amy turned sharply, green flames gathered in her glared orbs. "Andrew, I -was- being nice about it. I just don't feel comfortable out here." She lied again. This was the most comfortable place she knew. But with Andrew it wasn't at all.  
  
"Fine, get in the-- Oh my god.." Andrew's eyes grew wide as he stared at the mansion. Amy was terrified to turn around. Cause she knew who would be standing there.  
  
Click. Clank, Clank.  
  
Amy swallowed hard, and faced the mansion slowly. There stood Edward, frozen with shock. Amy wanted to tell him it wasn't her fault, but she didn't have enough time to even mouth anything to him. Edward walked forward just a little, walking towards Amy.  
  
"Get in the car Amy!" Andrew shouted, searching for his keys in his pocket while he took a few steps backwards. Amy didn't move, her eyes stayed on Edward.  
  
"Amy! Get in the car, now!" His voice wavered with fear. Amy eventually took a step backwards. She looked over at Andrew long enough to see him leaning over and popping open his glove compartment. Amy turned sharply enough that her ponytail hit her in the face.  
  
"Run, Edward!" She screamed. She screamed to the top of her lungs. Fear ran down her spine like sandpaper. Edward took a step back, obviously confused why his first friend was yelling at him.  
  
Amy was near tears as she heard Andrew's car door slam shut. At the time she wasn't sure if he was inside the car or not. Amy scanned the ground and picked up a quarter size rock, and chunked it towards the shadowed man. "Run!" A tear rolled down her cheek as she heard the hammer of a gun cock.  
  
~+~+~+~+~+~+~  
  
The next chapter will be up soon! Sorry it took so long on this Chapter! I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do with it. ^^;; Please R&R! 


	9. Chapter 9

Amy turned, the barrel of the pistol shinned in the sunlight. Andrew's shaking hands held the barrel out towards the man. Teary eyes made it hard for Amy to see straight, but she knew what she saw.  
  
"Are you fuckin' nuts?!" Amy outbursted, clutching the sides of her jean skirt nervously. Andrew's eyes never left the man, "Get inside the car." His voice was calmer then before, and it was almost hard for Amy to hear him. Shuffling backwards kicked dirt into her sandals. Turning around, Amy reached for the carhandle and yanked the door open.  
  
Amy quickly got into her seat, and Andrew was already pulling out. Looking back at the mansion, there was no sign of Edward. Thank god. Andrew cocked the gears into reverse, skitting out of the courtyard and out to the asphalt road. They rode down the street in silence, and Amy did notice that he was going the wrong way. Well, not exactly a wrong way. Just a long one.  
  
"You called it Edward." That wasn't a statement. It was put more into a question. As to how she knew what his name was.  
  
"You pointed a gun at -him-."  
  
Andrew fell silent again. "I got scared, Amy."  
  
But then he laughed. A bitter one.  
  
"You know him, I take it."  
  
"No, I've heard stories."  
  
"Why did you get so upset when I pulled out the gun?" Andrew glanced at her, watching Amy wipe the tears settling at the bottom of her eyes. Amy huffed in disgust, sharply turning to Andrew.  
  
"For Christ sakes Andrew," Amy pointed with an open hand at the pistol laying on the dashboard. "You pulled out a gun!" That was the point. Not who he pointed it at, just the fact that he carelessly pulled one out towards someone. Towards Edward..  
  
"Did you see his hands?!" Andrew yelled, his face twisted in scared anger. For a moment, Amy said nothing. The scared and confused face of Edward haunted her mind. What was he going to do next time she saw him? If she ever saw him again..  
  
Amy shook her head, as to shake the man's face out of her head. "What?" Andrew said, the muscle's in his face relaxing only a little. Facing the road again, his hands gripped the steering wheel rather tightly, making his fingers turn a death-pale white, and an angry red at the tips. The beauty in Andrew slowly decreased in Amy's eyes. There was only fear and hate bottled deep inside the boy when you peeled off his layers like a dry onion. It stung her eyes, and made her want to water down like a baby.  
  
"I saw them." Amy whispered, staring out into the windowshield. Her small fingers laced together, she placed them in her lap and focused on the humming sound of his car. Andrew didn't say anything after that, but his face stayed scared; and wondering. She knew he was contimplating what happened back there. And he knew something was Fishy.  
  
Andrew pulled infront of Amy's house, but locked the doors so she couldn't get out just yet.  
  
"How do you know him?" Andrew said, leaning back into his seat and staring her down. Amy gripped ahold of the cardoor, and tried to lift the handle but it was no use. It seemed to grow cold in the car as Andrew stared at her. It made her nervous. But her eyes didn't leave the carhandle as she spoke.  
  
"Let me out of the car, Andrew." Her voice didn't waver like she thought it would.  
  
"Just answer my question."  
  
"NOW, Andrew!" Amy screamed, turning towards him. Without a word, he flicked the switch to unlock her door. Amy took the chance and fled like a bird freed from it's cage. Amy was in the house before Andrew sped off down the road. Closing the door, she locked it. Locked both locks. For some reason she didn't feel safe now. Amy backed away from the door, forcing her back against the living room wall. Taking in a deep breath, Amy let out all she was worth. Tears raced down her flushed face, and her body crumpled to the floor.  
  
--  
  
"You saw what happened?"  
  
"The poor girl raced into the house like a loon. I wonder what went wrong."  
  
"I don't know, Doris. But you know, Ms. Newberry told me that they were coming out from the mansion."  
  
"The mansion?!"  
  
"Mm-hmm.."  
  
"Do you think that it's--"  
  
"Don't say that Doris, don't jenx this town. We've got that one girl in our neighborhood that's just about as crazy as what might have been up in that mansion."  
  
".. Something's fishy about this. And I don't like it."  
  
"Me neither. Just keep a good eye on those Teenagers, no tellin' what they have up their sleeves. I'll see you tonight at Dinner."  
  
"Bye-bye."  
  
--  
  
Amy didn't say a word to her dad when he came in from town. It concerned him, but it wasn't anything out of the usual from his daughter sometimes. Amy just sat on her bed, with a faint background music from a small Boom- box. The pictures laid out on her bed. Her emotions swarmed in her chest like a blender, the feeling of wanting to cry and wanting to smile entwined with each other. Amy reached out with her shaking hand, and picked up the picture of Edward, cutting away at the tree. Shaping and sculping her figure in the bush with his bladed-fingers. Amy studied it closely, looking into Edward's eyes inside the picture. No doubt about it, he was happy then. She knew that he was happy around her. And today she had scared him, and possible betraded him in his mind. But she saved him as best as she could. She got Andrew the hell out of there. And left Edward untouched.  
  
Standing to her feet, she dropped the picture back onto her bed and slipped her feet back into her sandals. They were still layered with sand at the bottom, which irratated her feet but tried not to pay much attention to it as she walked downstairs. Her father sat at his desk, with a phone glued to his ear. Looking up and seeing Amy, he frowned. She was more quiet then usual, and the problem was that he could never understand why. Because she refused to tell him, or let him know.  
  
It was warm outside. Possibly warm enough for a Summer Shower to roll in. She hoped, but it was definitely douted. As Amy glanced over to the mansion, she knew she couldn't go there yet. Just not yet. It wasn't safe for her. But more importantly, it wasn't safe for Edward. With the camera around her neck yet again, she turned to walk down the street, towards the park. In the opposite direction of the mansion that lingered in the background. The eyes of the house stung into her back, cause she knew what was waiting inside for her. But with a deep breath, she continued walking. The park should be some-what empty today, she thought. It was a Monday, and most kids at 1 o' clock today were either A) Sleeping or B) Eating. The park was nice sized, and off to the far-left corner was a small playground. With swings, a slide, and a row of muti-colored see-saws. There were benches placed along the edges of a dirt walking path, and to the right was a medium sized cement basketball court; with two Basketball-hoops. An old man sat on one of the benches, smoking a pipe and reading Today's newspaper. Amy strolled in the park, wearing a pair of jeans that made her seem taller then she really was, or more lanky; and a tannish tank top. She still wore the sandals she had two days ago at the mansion.  
  
Ah, but yet the quiet emptyness of a City park was too good to be true. About through the second picture of a flower Amy was working on, there was dragging sounds of shuffled feet behind her. She didn't turn around until she heard the first voice. A female voice.  
  
"Hey kid," The raspy voice said, obviously indecating that the owner of the voice smoked way more then her fair share. Amy turned slowly, gripping the straps of her camera like a nervous tendency. A girl about a head taller then Amy stood before her, and reeked of cigarette smoke. There were three other girls with her, and a younger male.  
  
Of course, every neighborhood has there Gang-green Gang. Well, Maggie, Stephanie, Marissa and Heather were it. The younger boy must have been a tag along, possibly a hostage. "We heard about your weird friend." The ashtray spoke, as to intemidate. She only made Amy want to cough. Amy shook her head.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Amy said quietly, and went to step to the right of the girl to escape. But the girl stepped with her, blocking her way. A couple of the girls giggled at Amy's attempt. Amy didn't find it too funny.  
  
"Oh, but I think you do. Andrew told me all about the mansion."  
  
That bastard.  
  
Amy stopped, and looked up at the girl's raggid face. The girls brown hair was cut short, and an eyebrow piercing was the only thing new and refreshed looking on the girl's face. Oh, for the love of God would the day end. The boy in the back almost looked nervous as he scanned the area. Probably hoping he could haul ass before he was caught seen at the scene of a murder. Amy just knew they were going to pound her around the playground like a mass of dough. But at the moment, she was only concerned about the some-odd hundred dollar camera around her neck.  
  
"He said you know the weird-o that lives there." Deep breaths. Just take deep breaths.  
  
"And you believe Andrew?" Amy said, trying to sound calm and also defend herself.  
  
"Better then we believe you."  
  
"Well, even in a gang you still don't have enough brains to prove me wrong on the lack of intelligence you guys have." Ouch. Shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have done that. Amy guessed the girl was just looking for a fight. Or perhaps she got paid to beat up on poor Amy Gibson. Because before Amy could process what was going on and say, "Oh shit," Maggie had balled her fist and slammed it right into the side of Amy's face, sending her to the ground with a black sheet over her eyes.  
  
~+~+~+~ This chapter's long because I couldn't find an ending point! But Chapter 10 will be out soon! 


	10. Chapter 10

Amy awoke from her darkness. Along with having a horrible headache throbbing at her temples. She picked herself up from where she was laying, the dirt sticking to her face due to the blood that had coaggulated on her face from where her nose had busted open. She felt dizzy and loopy, it taking a few moments to remember what exactly had happened. Then it clicked in hard like another punch to the face.

"Where's my camera?!" She asked to no one, bolting up to her feet and nearly loosing balance. Just to confirm it was true, she patted her chest and felt nothing. Her heart feel abruptly to her knees as her stomach began to churn. She just knew it was destroyed. Oh, how she wished now she would have listened to her father for once. If she would have, she wouldn't have put Edward in anymore danger nor would her camera be missing right now. Her eyes scanned the ground around her, searching for her beloved camera. No sight of it.

The bitch stole it.

Anger built up quickly inside of Amy. She wanted to hurt the girl who smelt of cigarettes. She wanted to hurt the boy who had betrayed her so quickly. Tears welted up in her eyes as she searched for another good ten minutes before making her way home. Night was soon to fall and she would make her way back to see Edward. She would apologize to him and tell him that she would no longer be able to see him. His face would show disappointment or possible anger but she would reassure him it was for the best. He would agree and they would leave on good terms and a fond memory of each other.

Yeah, right.

That night Amy escaped out the front door since her father was still out of town and snuck off towards Edward's mansion. It was very late at night and she hoped that most of the neighbors had hung up their phones and retired for the night. Amy made it past the gates and into the courtyard. She hadn't turned her flashlight on since she had memorized the walkway to the front door of the mansion. Once inside of the abandoned mansion, she switched on her flashlight and the small light flooded the area. Up the stairs she went, her heart racing so fast she just knew it would eventually stop altogether. Would Edward possibly attack her? It was unlikely but could happen. Was he even up there? She hoped so.

When she reached the attic, she heard him.

Click. Clank.

"Edward?" She called out, a snowball forming in her throat. There was no answer. The silence began to envelope the attic and this made Amy very uneasy. She knew he was there yet he would not respond. "Edward, I know you're upset. I didn't know that was going to happen, I swear." Amy's voice began to break as more tears formed in her eyes, leaking down her blushed cheeks.

"I know it wasn't your fault." He said cooly. The snowball in Amy's throat began to melt. "You have to leave though." The melting ceased.

"...What?" Amy's voice was soft and tender. What Edward had said hurt deeply. He was her friend. He clipped and trimmed shrubbery into the shape of herself. She took pictures of his artwork and tucked them in the bottom drawer of her nightstand. The throbbing of Amy's headache hurt worse now. The memory of the pictures she had taken reminded her of her stolen camera and made matters no easier. "Why do I have to leave?" She wanted to beg to stay with him longer. As she took a step closer, she saw his figure in the dark take a step back.

"Please, Amy." His voice was just as calm as when he had introduced himself to her. But Amy wasn't going to leave that easily. She flipped off her flashlight and tucked it into her pocket. She wanted to apologize fully to him and explain the whole story but knew it was pointless. Edward did not seem interested in her speech for forgivness. With a sigh, she went to turn and walk out, reaching back in her pocket to turn back on the light (which she had no idea why she had turned it off). Before she was able to turn around fully, she heard footsteps behind her.

"We knew you were hanging out with this _freak_." Andrew "Asshole" Peterson emphasized the word 'freak', his spit hitting the back of her neck. Before she was aware, Andrew had his arm locked around Amy's throat - choaking her slightly. She struggled to remove herself from his hold until she felt the cold metal of his gun press against her cheek. Her motions quickly ceased and her eyes widened with fear. Now she understood why Edward had wanted her to leave. It wasn't because he was angry or upset, he was attempting to save her.

"Why are you planning to hurt me? What the hell did I do?!" Her voice thudded with fear and anxiousness. It made no sense to the young girl. All she did was find that a myth was actually true and he was holding a gun to her head for doing so. Her life was in danger because of a myth that exsisted.

Fucking Beautiful.

On the other side of her face, Andrew's lips pressed against her cool skin as he talked. "You've been the talk of the neighborhood for years, Amy. We all knew you would lead us to something -extradinary-. That's exactly what you did, Miss Gibson. You lead us right to this killer." His words were filled with poison and made Amy's blood boil with rage. His cool lips dragged across to her ear, the tip of his tongue staining her earlobe with his saliva. It sent shivers down her spine and sickened her.

"He's no killer, Andrew. Leave him alone." Amy said in defense of Edward. Edward, however, stood there ever so calmly and clinked his scissorhands back and forth in the dark. He hadn't spoken a word yet. Andrew released Amy from his hold and pointed the gun in a new direction. At Edward.

"I say we end it now." Andrew spatted.

"This isn't right! Even if he did kill anybody - that was many, many years ago! He hasn't hurt anyone since!" Amy shouted. Andrew cocked the hammer of the gun back, his index finger kissing the trigger very lightly. When Amy flashed the light over in Edward's direction she could see that his face was dull. He never said one word.

Clank. Click.

"That makes no fuckin' sense, Amy! Just because he may have done it a long time ago doesn't excuse him from being a killer!" Andrew said. He was right but she would never agree with him. Edward was her friend. He was nice to her. He made her feel happy.

"You're right, Andrew." Amy said quietly. Andrew turned in her direction, the barrell still starring towards Edward. "He is a killer and I believe since I found him," Amy paused, lifting the flashlight and pointing it into Edward's face. "I should finish him off."

Andrew chuckled. "How would I trust you?" Andrew snarled.

"If you leave me with Edward and the gun. I promise you that I you will hear two gun shots and I will return to town with his.. hands." Amy insisted. Her face showed sincerness.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: I am SO sorry that I stopped on this story. I really liked where it was going and I'm very glad I got back on the ball (after nearly THREE years. Ugh, I'm ashamed of myself.) Anyhoo, I am wrapping up the story and this will be the last chapter of Through Black and White Eyes. I want your opinions and let me know if I should make a sequel to this story or leave it how it is. I'm leaving it up to you guys. :D So here it is, the end.**

Andrew looked at Amy for a long while without speaking. Amy stared at him intenstly, her hand reaching out for the gun. "Just let me do it, please." She now begged him.

Click. Clank.

Surprisingly to Amy, Andrew gave in and handed her the pistol. Amy's hands shook the whole time as she held the weapon. Was she really going to go through with what she said? She highly doubted it but she accomplished what she wanted the most. The danger was now very small to Edward and herself at the moment.

"I expect to hear the shots soon." With that, Andrew began down the stairs. The snowball had completely melted and slithered down her throat like syrup. Her body relaxed more as the gun dangled by her side in her loose grip. She quickly turned to Edward who had backed himself up against the wall of the musty attic. Amy waited before she said anything. Waited until Andrew was out of earshot.

"Edward, I'm not going to hurt you." She said, placing the gun on the floor. Amy pointed the light in his direction again and smiled lightly at his scared expression. His small lips were puckered and his dark eyes shinned through the darkness with fear. Amy let the flashlight go off once more, leaving the moonlight to shine. Amy could still see Edward almost perfectly.

"I'm so sorry.." She whispered. She took a couple of steps towards him. His scissorhands nervously clinked back and forth. Amy reached to the point where she stood less then a feet away from him and stopped, looking up into his eyes. He hadn't said one word since he had warned her. Amy knew Andrew would soon be expecting the bullets ring through his ears like a lovely melody. Why did he want Edward dead? It's not like he had killed anyone he knew. If that was true, however. Not just rumors.

"Why are you crying, Amy?" He finally spoke. Amy hadn't even realized that tears still streamed down her hot cheeks. She laughed softly, wiping her own tears away.

"I didn't want you to get hurt, that's all." Amy said. Without much thought, she turned back around and picked Andrew's pistol up off of the attic floor. She knew the shots would not only attract Andrew's attention but the rest of the neighborhood's. Pointing it out towards the window, Amy shot the gun two times. The rings of the bullets escaping at max speed deafened her ears for the few moments she stood there - the gun still pointing outside. The shots fired made Edward jump nervously. As the silence began to enter back into the attic, Amy slowly brought the gun to her side.

"Police will be coming soon." Amy stated as a fact. Gun shots were very, very rare in her small town. When they did accure it was considered a big threat and event. The neighbors would be scurring out of their homes in nightgowns and curlers. They'll gather around with the other neighbors and discuss matters with one another.

"It was that strange girl! I just knew she would eventually off herself! Poor, poor child." They will say in hushed tones, not near as sympathic as just plain rude.

Edward nodded in agreement. He opened his mouth to speak but Amy quickly cut him off. "Do you have any spare 'hands'?" She asked.

He lead her quickly downstairs after Amy had made sure Andrew had exited the mansion completely. Amy's stomach was doing backflips against her spine as she attempted to rush the matters along. Mrs.Newberry had already called the Police. She was sure of this. Edward weebled over to a far wall of the "living room" (which was nothing but labatory equipment covered in cobbwebs). There, hanging on nails, was an old rusty pair of 'hands'.

"I had made those but they didn't fit right." Was all he said as Amy quickly removed them for the wall. She held them with care as to not cut herself with the rusty blades. In the far distance she heard the sirens of police cars. Amy found it ironic suddenly that she would have to fake his death yet again. Just how they had done in the myth. Was that true? Amy didn't have time to ask Edward details of his past with the outside world. She had to save him no matter if this would be the second time someone had.

Turning around to look at Edward in the dark Amy could see the sadness building in his eyes like a tower. He would be loosing another friend like he had had before. Amy felt guilty for ever wanting to venture into his territory to only hurt him once more. It was undeniable that she had a great time sharing the outdoors with Edward and watching him perform his well-equiped 'hobby'.

The sirens were drawing closer now, sounding near the gate into the mansion. Amy knew she didn't have time to conversate. She didn't want to leave and it was obvious by the lead weight pulling her feet down against the wooden floor. She bit her bottom lip, staring at Edward.

"I promise I will visit again one day. I will make this all up to you." He only nodded once more. Amy took a step forward and Edward stayed still, retracting his scissorhands behind him. Amy leaned up on her tippy-toes and pressed a light kiss to his purplish lips. It was something beautiful at the moment. Like a rainbow that appears in a pool of gasoline. He did not move nor did he return it. Amy settled herself back on the floor and looked him in the eyes.

"I promise you Edward." Amy said before turning to walk out of the mansion.

"Amy?" She stopped at his voice and turned back to him once more.

"Yes?"

"I'll be here." Edward smiled fully. It was a heartwarming sight. The life inside the mansion seemed to glow as he did. Amy smiled and held back a small laugh.

"Alright. Goodbye, Edward." She raced out the frontdoor, through the courtyard, and to the front gate. As she had thought, the police cars were outside of the gate and Amy could spot a police officer talking to Mrs.Newberry. The metal blades clattered as she jogged up the small trail to the gate and opened it with a brisk.

Andrew stood with another cop. She could overhear him discussing how the "monster" had tried to attack him and Amy. All talking stopped as Amy walked up to the police officers as well as Andrew. The cop eyed her cautiously and then his gaze turned to the blades she held in her hands.

That night Amy would explain how she was able to fight herself off of the creature and kill him, bringing out his hands to show everyone that he was no longer a threat. Police officers thought about swarming the mansion to make sure but figured if the creature's hands had been cut off - he was no longer a danger to their neighborhood. As one officer said, "The old man's mansion can continue to be his prison." The police scolded Amy for every trespassing in the first place and luckily that's all they did. Her dad was highly disappointed in her but was glad she was alive.

Amy never told the police about Andrew's assult against her. She figured it was for the best for all of them. She never really saw him after that night in the mansion. He never called nor would he pick fun at her. Eventually, a year or so later, Andrew and his family moved out of the neighborhood. The green honda still made it's residence in the frontyard until a curtious tow company haulled it out before place a 'For Sale' sign where it once sat.

A few years passed and Amy slowly grew up. She owned several more cameras after the first one was found smashed to pieces a few blocks down from her house. Her father still dashed in and out of the house quickly and still made ham and eggs for breakfast. Amy wouldn't complain, as usual, only toss it into the garbage as soon as he left for the day. Amy had a few more boys that she would go out on dates with (more to please them then herself) and go home without a kiss at the front door.

Her mind raced with the thoughts of her strange friend she had met at the age of seventeen. Occasionally she would pull at the old photos of Edward and would stare at them for some time. The picture of him steadily cutting away at leaves, his face so sincere with his work. She missed him terribly and planned to go through with the last promise she made to Edward. Amy would see him again and she was sure of it. The only person that had made her happy in her teenage life was him. The man with the scissored hands.

Edward.

Edward Scissorhands.

Please R&R! Thanks guys!


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